


Hot August Night

by MistressPussyKat



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, RPF, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-28 06:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressPussyKat/pseuds/MistressPussyKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance meeting ...</p>
<p>Starts out cute. Gets hotter. Promise. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meetings

**_Part One — Meetings_ **

I wake up in a strange hotel bedroom. The curtains are drawn over the windows, so I can’t place where I am. Rising, I make my way to the window and peer out. No mistaking that skyline. New York City. What am I doing here? And in mid-August?

Oh, yes, that’s right. My children and their significant others decided I needed to get out and see the world. Never mind that I didn’t think I was really ready. Jared has been gone what seems like such a short time. What’s a year in the larger scheme of things? His memory still holds on. Or is that me holding on to it? At times, I swear I can hear him whisper, “It’s time, love. Get out there and live again. I’ll always be in your heart.” He would say something like that. He was a good man.

I guess this last visit with the kids had been their opening. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I had fits of crying for no reason. And I could see that they were worried. Alright, to be brutally honest, I was worried too. This introverted, weepy woman wasn’t me. It wasn’t the person Jared had been married to for more than 30 years. It was time to move on. It was time to rediscover the woman within.

You never think your children pay attention to what you’re saying. And then they surprise the living hell out of you. The four of them came up with my itinerary, based, they told me, on bits and pieces they’d picked up in conversations.

Apparently, I’d mentioned that I would like to go to New York to see Wicked, and dine at Sardi’s, and stay at the Paramount. And here I was in a suite at the Paramount. I had tickets to the evening performance of Wicked, and reservations at Sardi’s for dinner before and coffee and dessert after the show. And, from my younger son, said with a good dose of laughing encouragement, the admonition to not do anything he wouldn’t do. Well, that certainly left the door wide open, didn’t it?

My only real dilemma? What was I going to do between now and dinner? I haven’t ever really entertained myself; there was always a husband or children around. Well, as I used to tell them, get a good breakfast under your belt and the day will turn out great. 

For a woman of 50, and yes, that’s all I’m willing to admit to, I’m not too hard to look at. Blessed with pretty good genetics, I still look as though I’m much younger than I am. Most folks say I look 35. They’re just being nice. I can pass for 40. My shoulder-length, swing-cut, chestnut-colored hair is natural. There are a few sprinkles of silver here and there, but I’ve earned them. My 5’6” figure is well-formed. I’ll admit to a size 10. I use a light-touch when it comes to cosmetics, but know how to bring out my blue eyes, my best feature, if I do say so myself. 

Dressing in a fun multi-colored swingy skirt, lightweight soft white top and white strappy sandals, I grab my blanket backpack and head out to conquer NYC.

I ask the concierge for a good place to breakfast. She suggests a fun way to start the day — Ellen’s Stardust Diner — where the servers sing for you. And dance. And generally get you moving — clapping, singing along. That sounds perfect.

As I walk the blocks to the diner, I feel the rhythm of the city. My feet are lighter than they’ve been in ages. I almost feel like skipping. And I can feel the smile on my face. The one that people said brightened their day. The one that had been hiding for so long. The one I’d only wanted to share with Jared. I could hear him, whispering, “That’s it, sweetheart. Smile. You’re beautiful when you smile.”

And so I smile, and walk, and feel happy. What a glorious day!

As I get to the diner, a very tall, very handsome man reaches for the door at the same time I do. “Allow me,” he says, in a rich baritone coated with a lovely English accent. That voice. Where have I heard that voice before? Looking up, I see smiling sapphire blue eyes gazing at me, with what could be called admiration. My ego got a boost.

“Thank you,” I smile back at him, “I see chivalry isn’t dead.”

“Only wounded,” he chuckles back, “I do what I can to see it on the mend.”

We step into the tiny vestibule of the diner, to find ourselves in a bit of a line.

“Are you here alone?” he asks, a hint of surprise, hope maybe?, in his question. And then he adds quickly, “That’s not polite question to ask. Forgive my rudeness.”

“Not rude,” I answer, “an obvious observation.” And taking a risk, say, “As a matter of fact, I am here alone. And it looks as though you are too.” 

He nods, smiling, shrugging those broad shoulders.

Smiling up at him, I ask, “Please don’t think me too forward. But, as we’re both alone, and we’ll probably get quicker seating if we were two together instead of two singles, would you like to share breakfast with me?” 

“That would be lovely,” he responds, smiling broadly. “It’s not every day I get to share my breakfast with a beautiful woman.”

“And that would be your pick up line?” I joke.

He laughs, full and heartily. “No, not pick up line. I’m terribly out of practice in that area,” he says. “I’ve been working a lot lately and haven’t really had time for, well, that sort of thing.” Was it my imagination, or did he actually blush a little?

“Well, if we’re going to share breakfast,” I say, just a little saucily, “it would probably be good to at least know each other’s names.” He chuckles and I swear he reddens a little more. Extending my hand, I introduce myself, “My name is Adrianna. Most folks call me Dree.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Dree.” Accepting my hand, he shakes it, and then looking straight into my eyes, he brings it up for a light brush of his lips. “I’m Rich.”

“With a move like that, I’m sure you are,” I quip, even though inside I feel a tingle all up my spine. Again he laughs, that rich baritone sending another tingle this time down my spine. What is that all about? I hear Jared’s whisper in my head, “Go with it, baby. Enjoy yourself.”

“You alright?” Rich asks.

“Ye..es, yes, I’m fine,” I stammer. “Must be the August heat here in the city.” I fan myself, trying to make light of the moment.

“You looked a little distant for a moment,” he says. “I hope I haven’t offended in any way.” The look on his face is boyish and, set against the well-built body visible in black jeans and a short-sleeved black shirt, irresistible.

“No, sweetie, not at all. I just had a memory of someone, someone special,” I reply.

Taking my hand in his, he says, “‘Sweetie,’ I like the sound of that.” And flashes a brilliant smile at me.

I chuckle back at him, “Don’t get too worked up, Rich,” I say, stressing his name, “I tend to call lots of folks ‘sweetie’. Just one of my quirks.”

“And what do you call those you know better?” he asks, that deep voice almost whispering the words, still holding my hand, using two fingers of his free hand under my chin to tilt my face up to look into his eyes. There is the light of amusement, yes. But just under that, something else, something I haven’t seen in a long while. Attraction. Sexual attraction.

At that exact moment, the waiter motions for us to follow him. Collecting myself, I slip my hand out of Rich’s and follow the waiter to our table. ‘Get a hold of yourself, girl,’ I admonish myself silently, ‘take it slow. You’re new at this.’ I take a deep breath as Rich sits opposite me.

“So, Rich, what brings you to town?” I ask, maybe a bit too brightly. “You’re obviously not a native of these parts.”

“Escaping work for the weekend,” he responds, quietly.

Before I can say anything, our waiter brings menus and two of the waitstaff start a duet, standing just a few feet away from us. Scanning the menu, I decide on a cool meal of fruit, bagel and a strawberry-banana smoothie. Rich seems to make up his mind quickly, too. As the duet ends, our waiter takes our order and whisks away the menus. 

Taking advantage of the moment, Rich softly captures one of my hands across the table.

“I am sorry if I was too forward out there,” he begins, staring at our joined hands. “I felt … something. And no, this isn’t pick-up line. And this all sounds like rubbish,” he quickly finishes. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he looks at me and his eyes speak volumes. He is lonely. This gorgeous specimen of a man, with a voice that I was still trying to place, is lonely. How is that possible?

He looks down at our joined hands.

“You weren’t forward — Rich,” I start, avoiding the word ‘sweetie’ because he’d just moved from being ‘folks’ to being someone I really did want to know better. “I make a point of using a person’s name when they are someone I know — or want to know — better. Rich.”

At the sound of his name the second time, his eyes sought mine, and what I see there warms my heart. It is a spark of joy. 

He squeezes my hand, a smile lighting up his face. The waiter brings our meals, and as we tuck into them, we resume our conversation.

“You said you’re escaping work for the weekend?” I ask. “What is it that you do?”

“Oh, I travel quite a lot,” he replies, staring down at his plate. Clearing his throat, he glances up and continues, “I’m currently in Detroit on a project. I thought it would be fun to visit friends in New York for the weekend. But they got called away, so I’m on my own.” He smiles, “Maybe that was a brilliant bit of luck. I got to meet you.” He winks, a hint of sauciness stealing across his face.

Now it was my turn to blush. And he notices. His smile goes to full wattage. And my breath catches in my throat. ‘Wow!’ goes reverberating through my brain.

He is saying something, but my brain is still hearing “wow.” Shaking my head to clear it, I apologize, “I’m sorry. You were saying…”

“I was just asking what brought you into the city,” he semi-chuckles. “You don’t sound like a New Yorker, either.”

“Oh, that. I’m, ahhhh, just in town for a show. And dinner at Sardi’s. It’s a gift from my childr — ohhh!” and I clap my hand over my mouth. I hadn’t meant to start talking about the kids. I know I’ll never stop if I do. As I look up, I saw a hint of amused surprise on his face.

“You were saying? Your children gave you …” he prods and sits back in his chair, waiting patiently.

Sighing, I continue, “Yes. My children. And their spouses. They arranged for this weekend for me.”

“What a lovely thing to do for their Mum,” he says, smiling sweetly. “Is there a special occasion? Your birthday, perhaps?”

“No, not my birthday. I don’t have birthdays anymore,” I chuckle.

“Oh, neither do I!” he responds quickly. “Although some folks insist on celebrating it.” An odd look crossed his features, what seemed a mixture of happiness and annoyance. What an interesting individual he is.

“So which show are you going to? I have tickets for the theatre tonight as well.” He fumbles for his wallet in his back pocket, and opens it to display his tickets. I almost choke when I see which show. Wicked!

“You alright?” he asks (again).

Coughing, I reply, “Ye..es.” Clearing my throat, I continue, “Here’s a surprise.” And opening my backpack, I bring out the little envelope with my ticket inside.

He looks at it, and leaning back, laughs full and long. Looking at me, he says with a silly smirk, “See, I told you it was a brilliant bit of luck.”

Still a little in shock, I nod, “Yes, quite lucky.”

“I know this sounds a bit cheeky,” he says, again taking my hand in his, “but do you have any plans for today?”

“I was going to window shop some, wander around,” I reply, half to myself, “but, no, no real plans. Why? What did you have in mind?”

Standing, and pulling me to my feet, he carelessly tosses a $50 on the table and says, “Let’s get out of here,” looks smilingly into my eyes, and asks, “fancy a walk?”

 

_To be continued …_


	2. Walkies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heat builds ...

**_Part Two — Walkies_ **

We walk. Rather, he walks. I am pulled along. Those long legs of his eat up the sidewalk quickly. The only reason I can keep up is because he has a firm hold on my hand. He seems in such a hurry to get … somewhere.

“Rich, please,” I groan.

He stops and glances down, and his face is immediately contrite.

“Oh, sorry love,” he smiles, “got carried away.”

“Yes, and you carried, or should I say ’pulled’, me right along with you,” I manage, between deep breaths. “Where are you in such a hurry to go, anyway?”

“There,” he says, pointing up, sporting a little boy grin, “up there.”

My eyes follow in the direction he’s pointing. It’s the Empire State Building!

I can feel my smile widen. “Oh! You’re a mind reader! That is on my list of things to do this trip!”

“I’ve been known to read a thing or two,” he quips, sending a naughty leer my way, “but reading your mind sounds like a delightful distraction.” He quirks an attractive eyebrow at me.

‘Read a thing or two’ strikes a chord. There’s a niggle at the back of my brain …

“Dree?” I feel a tug on my hand. “Dree!”

“Oh, sorry,” I shake my head to clear it. “Really, sorry.”

“What is it, love?” he queries, concern flitting across his face. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no. Not at all,” I answer, “there was just something familiar about what you said.”

“Was there now?” he asks in that deep voice, a Cheshire Cat grin crawling across his lips. Laughing, he asks with a twinkle in his eyes, “Want to go up?” and points skyward.

“Yes! Let’s!” I exclaim, all other thoughts scattering at the prospect of seeing NYC from that famous vantage point.

Entering the lobby, we’re in awe of its immensity. Heading over to the entry, we are surprised by the lack of people. The security guard shrugs when we ask about it, saying, “Just take advantage of it. It doesn’t happen all that often.” And we do.

Rich pulls out his wallet and says, “Two, please.” I lay my hand on his arm. “No, you paid for breakfast. Let me.” As he shakes his head, the guard chuckles, “Lady, let ‘im pay. Makes the gent feel good ‘bout ‘imself.” Rich looks over at me and laughs, “Don’t rile the guard.” Resigned, I raise my hands in mock surrender, “Whatever!”

Tickets purchased, we head to the elevator. The ride up is quicker than I imagined. As the doors open onto the glass-lined vestibule, the brilliance of the day shines in. Taking my arm, Rich leads me up the few steps and out into the NYC sky.

Excited, I take a deep breath and whisper, “This is so much more breath-taking than I ever thought it would be!” I turn to look at Rich, surprised to find his gaze locked on me.

“It certainly is,” he rumbles, “utterly breath-taking.”

His hands move up to cup my face, his lips begin a slow descent to mine, stopping a hair’s-breadth away. 

“Forgive me,” he breathes, then takes my lips in a passionate kiss. Of their own volition, my hands find his shoulders, holding on as the floor seems to disappear beneath my feet.

What seems like an eternity later, he gently breaks contact, again stopping a mere breath away, and looks into my eyes. A feeling I can’t explain, don’t want to explain, courses through me. Moving my hands to his neck, I pull him back, into another scorching kiss. His fingers move down to my shoulders and pull me tight against him. The kiss spins out, he lifts his head and leans his forehead against mine. We’re both having trouble breathing.

A smattering of applause and a chorus of laughter bring us back to earth with a bit of a shock. Recovering our aplomb, we take an exaggerated bow and quickly head in the opposite direction. As we turn, I hear a young woman gasp, see her turn to another young woman and point. At Rich? Before I have time to think, he’s pulling me along in his long-legged wake, to a private spot around the corner of the building.

Taking me in his arms, he places a sweet kiss on my brow. He searches my eyes, the look in his questioning, hopeful.

“Please tell me you don’t hate me for that,” he says quietly.

Looking up into his eyes, I say, just as quietly, “How can I hate you, when I wanted you to do just that?” Twining my arms around his neck, I pull his mouth to mine, moaning slightly when his tongue traces my lips before sinking deeply into the kiss. His tongue entwines with mine, seeking the sensitive surface. His arms circle my waist, pulling me closer against him, molding me to his hard body. 

Involuntarily, I gasp when I brush against the bulge in his trousers.

“I’m not going to apologize,” he says, a little gruffly, “you’re having that effect on me.”

Chuckling breathlessly, I reply, “No need to apologize. I’m flattered.”

“Are you?” he says, an ornery gleam in his eyes, keeping me tight against his side, “let’s go somewhere we can be comfortable and, well, flatter each other some more.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and we both chuckle.

Feeling a bit wicked, I respond with a dose of sarcasm, “Flatter. Is that what we’re calling it now?”

He starts to laugh, when we hear the sound of footsteps coming toward us. Rich starts moving us quickly in the opposite direction, the long way to the elevators.

“But it’s faster that way,” I suggest, pointing back.

“Don’t really want to run into anyone in this state,” he teases, glancing downward.

“Right,” I say, blushing to the roots of my hair.

“Oh, you are delightful,” he smirks.

As we head down the steps to the open elevator, I hear a young woman out on the observation deck say, “It IS him, I just know it is.” She turns around and faces the elevator just as the doors are closing, and I can see her face light up, “See? It IS him!”

The doors close, and as the elevator descends, I look up at Rich. “What was that all about?” I ask, that feeling coming back. He smiles, leans down and captures my lips in a burning kiss.

Breaking the kiss for just a moment, “Later,” he says cryptically, as the elevators doors open and we rush outside.

We leave the Empire State Building behind, as Rich all but pulls me out to the curb to hail a taxi. Again, luck is with us, and one comes over almost immediately.

“The Paramount,” Rich and I say at the same time. We stop, look at each other, and then start laughing. “Brilliant bit of luck!” he says again, “Absolutely brilliant!”

As Rich settles back on the seat, I open my backpack to grab a mirror to touch up my lipstick, and my fingers brush across something I don’t remember putting in there. Pulling the little box free of the pack, I gasp, and then dissolve into laughter. There, in my purse, is a pack of Trojans, with a note penned in my younger son’s distinctive handwriting, which reads, “Have fun! Bring back details — and an empty box!” Oh that saucy boy!

“Whot’s so funny?” queries Rich

“This,” I respond, and then hold up the box.

A strangled choke escapes Rich, and the look on his face says he doesn’t know whether to laugh or be serious.

“Always prepared, are you?” he asks, trying to contain a chuckle.

“A gift from my younger son,” I reply, and hand him the box. “Check out the personalized instructions.” I turn the box over in his hands, and watch his expression. Without missing a beat, Rich says, “I think I like your son!” And we both dissolve into more laughter.

Recovering just a bit, I say, just a bit seriously, “I think I need to explain. Before we get to the hotel.” 

Looking down at the box, then back up at me, the humor is still in his eyes. But I can see the questions there, too.

Looking down at my hands, I sigh, “This is still so difficult.”

I feel that weepiness coming over me again, but this time I am determined to beat it. Giving myself a mental shake, I square my shoulders, and lift my eyes to his. What I see there, the empathy, the patience, is disconcerting, yet comforting, too. How can he possibly understand?

He pulls me against his side, placing his arms around my shoulders. His hand comes up and caresses my cheek. He kisses my brow, a quiet, sweet kiss.

“It can wait, love,” he smiles. “Don’t stress. I think I get it.” He holds my hand. “We can talk at the hotel.” Then grinning wickedly, he adds, “Your place or mine?” And waggles his eyebrows at me.

Laughing now, I respond, “Mine, please. It may be a little easier to explain if I’m in a somewhat familiar place.”

He nods, an understanding smile gracing his lips and reflecting in his eyes.

_To be continued_


	3. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot, just like in the title ...

**_Part Three — Secrets_ **

As the cab pulls up in front of the Paramount, I feel Rich move his hand from mine, to his lips in a nearly furtive “shhhhh” motion to the doorman, who is leaning to open the cab door. The doorman’s answering nod is almost imperceptible.

“Welcome to the Paramount,” he says, with a twinkle in his eyes.

What’s going on here? runs through my head. I’m thinking I’m not the only one who needs to explain something. This should be one very interesting conversation.

In the elevator, I push #7, and Rich chuckles.

“No, not you, too,” I laugh.

“Afraid so, love,” he says, “brilliant luck.” That smiles beams down at me. “Come here,” he says lowly, pulling me into a fast, hot kiss.

I sink into it, savor it. Then I playfully push at his chest to break it.

“Whot?” he smirks.

“We’re here,” I say innocently, gesturing as the doors open.

“Oh, well, there you go,” he says, grinning.

“Come on you,” I say, pulling him by the hand down the hallway. “I think we really need to talk.”

“Whot?” he grins, again, a twinkle in his eyes. Taking my key, he unlocks and opens the door, gesturing me inside. As we enter the sitting room, I see him cast a quick smirk at the connecting door in my room. OK, this is too much.

“OK, you,” I say, sitting down on the sofa. He sits very closely next to me, and gathers me in his arms, throwing me off-guard. As he lowers his head to kiss me, I see the purely mischievous look in his eyes. Pushing at his arms, I say firmly, “No, we need to talk first.”

“OK,” he smiles, “what did you want to explain to me?” He grows serious, and gently pulls my hands to nestle in his. 

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, I waver, “Are you sure?”

His eyes never leave mine. “I am. There’s something going on here,” he says, pointing to his heart and then to mine, “I don’t know what it is, but I think we need to get past this to see where it goes. So, please, love, tell me.”

“Yes, hmmmm,” I gather my courage, take a deep breath, and tell him. About Jared, about the past year, the kids, me. It all just tumbles out. And I feel the weight of it lift from me. As the last of it floats away, I hear Jared’s faint whisper, “It’s time, baby. You’re going to be fine. I love you.” With a faint brush of his lips across my memory, I know that’s the last time I’ll hear his whisper. But instead of a dark grief, I feel a brightness, a buoyancy. And I smile.

He’s been quiet the whole time. But Rich’s gaze tells me he understands. He pulls me into a warm embrace, a sweet cocoon, and places a kiss atop my hair.

“You’ve been through quite the wringer,” he says seriously. “I’ll understand if this isn’t the right time for us …” and his voice trails off. His eyes have a searching look to them.

“This is the first time I’ve been able to talk about the past year,” I tell him honestly. “And something wonderful happened while I was telling you. I felt release. I felt Jared tell me that it’s time, that he loves me. And that I’m going to be fine. And you know what? I am.”

Smiling, I lean into him and snuggle against his chest. His arms come around me, and squeeze lightly. He tips my head up, and places a sweet kiss on my lips. I can feel him smile against my lips.

It’s my turn to be mischievous. I reach around him, and into my backpack, to pull out the box of Trojans. I hold it up in front of him.

“Besides, do you really think, after all I’ve told you about the kids, especially my saucy youngest,” I leer at him, “that I can possibly go home with this unused?”

He snorts out a laugh. “You’re a remarkable woman!” and pulls me into a crushing embrace.

“I’m also an older woman,” I say as he relaxes his hold. “Are you ok with that?”

“What’s not to be OK with?” he counters, looking a touch baffled, his forehead crinkling, making him even more gorgeous. “You’re beautiful …” at which I give a very unladylike snort. He continues, giving me a quelling look and repeating, “… beautiful, funny, obviously have good taste,” grinning at me, “and you kiss divinely!”

He reaches for me. As I start to embrace him, those little niggles from throughout the day come back. I swat his hands away.

“I’m also a Mom. You know, nothing gets past a Mom.”

The look that crosses his face is pure little boy ornery.

“Yeah,” I chuckle, “that’s a look I’m very familiar with. Spill it, boy! Now. Or,” I lift the box of Trojans, and make as if to put it back in my pack, “I may just take my toys and go home.”

“Whot?” he laughs.

“Don’t ‘whot’ me,” I laugh back at him. “Something is going on. That moment at breakfast. Those women at the Empire State Building. The doorman. And just now, that smirk when we came into my room.”

His eyes are laughing. He unfolds his tall frame from the sofa and says, “Would you excuse me for a moment?” He is barely holding in a laugh. He kisses the top of my head and leaves the room. Not even so much as a “See you soon.”

What is going on here? I wonder as the door latches behind him. As I’m trying to put the pieces together in my head, a knock sounds. Baffled, I get up to answer the door. Before I get there, another knock sounds. But it’s not at the room door. On the connecting door? More baffled, I listen closely and hear, “C’mon, Dree, open up.” I turn the latch, and there he is, laughing.

“I said it was a brilliant bit of luck. Just didn’t know HOW much of one!”

“Oh!” I exclaim.

“Come here,” he growls, pulling me into a blazing kiss, not so gentle this time. He plunders my mouth, demanding entry, fencing tongue against tongue. He draws back, nips at my lips, runs his hands through my hair. His gaze is intense, the question in his eyes, “Will you?”

In response, I wrap my arms around his neck, and capture his mouth in a torrid kiss. A moan escapes him, as he tightens his arms around me and hitches my legs up around his waist. His hands grip my ass and pull me hard against him. I moan loudly, as the bulge I experienced earlier is in full evidence now.

Breaking the kiss, still breathless, I sigh, “It’s been a very long time since I’ve done this.” 

Chuckling seductively, that smooth chocolate voice rumbles, “You don’t seem to’ve forgotten anything.” He devours my mouth again.

Sensing a touch of uneasiness in me, he loosens his grip, and slowly unwraps my legs from around him. Sweet torture … he slides me down his body. As my feet touch the floor, he maneuvers me to the king bed.

“We’ll take it slowly, Dree, this time,” his rich baritone tickles my ear, “but I make no promises for the next.” His deliciously seductive whisper sends shivers up my spine.

His kisses are slow and thorough. His hands explore my body, going up my arms, down my back, up my sides. His thumbs caress the undersides of my breasts through my top. My nipples tighten at his touch. It’s been so long since …

“Rich!” I gasp, as his mouth travels from mine, down my throat, to take a hardened peak into it, through my clothing, suckling gently. His other hand snakes under my top to close around the twin. I moan, and my limbs go liquid.

“Let’s lose these,” he suggests with a grin.

Not waiting for a reply, he pulls the top over my head and unclasps my bra.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, as he gazes at me.

A little self-conscious, I raise my arm to cover myself.

He stops my hand in mid-motion. “Please don’t.”

I drop my arm, and he covers both breasts gently with his big hands. My head drops back, eyes closed, breathing labored. His hand moves up to cup my neck as his mouth makes a fiery trail from breast to throat to mouth. I’m barely able to stand, and moan loudly as the kiss spins out.

He breaks the kiss; my eyes open, glazed. “That’s right, Adrianna, look at me.”

His mouth trails wet kisses to the breast he’s been caressing. I moan as he takes the peak in his mouth and suckles greedily. I grab onto his hair, holding him close to me, wanting him to take more. I can feel his smile against me. Raising his head, he murmurs, “That’s my girl. Let go …” 

Deep within me, I feel stirrings. My hips push against his. He moves my hands to his chest, and I see him shiver as they graze his nipples. Echoing his move, I kiss his throat and then trail kisses down to capture and suck on his nipple through his shirt. His answering groan spurs me on. Reaching up, I release the first few buttons. I glance up to see a seductive smirk, and a blazing passion in his eyes.

“Don’t stop,” he breathes, tracing his fingertips over my breasts. Another shiver of delight races through me.

Buttons undone, I peel the shirt from his shoulders and gasp at the muscles hidden beneath it. As my hands move over his abs, my mouth finds his nipples and suckle each in turn. I moan, and suddenly feel myself get wet. Gasping, my hand involuntarily moves to my center.

“Here, let me,” he purrs. His big hand moves under my skirt, first pressing against my mound over my panties. I let out a low scream. “That’s right, let go,” he rumbles. His long fingers slide along my inner thigh, edging along the fabric. As he slides one finger under the edge, lightly brushing my opening, I groan, “Rich!” I lean heavily against him.

He moves his hand away, and gently lays me down on the bed. With infinite slowness, he lowers my panties, over my thighs, past my knees, following the path with slow, wet kisses. My hands are fisted in the sheet, my body writhing under his ministrations. The panties are tossed aside and his fingers slide seductively up the insides of my legs, my thighs, and meet at my juncture. He slides one finger up and down, opening my folds, spreading my juices along my opening, teasing my bud. He dips one finger inside me, and I scream. He withdraws it, hovering just outside, then slowly slides two fingers in.

“Rich! Please. Please.” I beg. But I don’t know what I’m begging for.

“That’s it, baby. Let go. Just let go.” I’m writhing against the sheets as he glides his fingers in and out of me. He leans over me, captures my mouth with his for a sizzling kiss, tongues entwined. My hips are pumping hard against his hand. His thumb is rubbing my bud, gently. He draws back, trailing his mouth down my throat, over my breasts, down my belly, straight to my bud. His tongue touches me, and I explode. The orgasm overwhelms me, I scream and go limp.

Rich lays down beside me and gathers me in his arms, cradling me against his chest until my breathing levels off. “That’s my girl,” he croons, “relax, Dree. Come down slowly.” He spreads light kisses on my brow, lightly caresses my back, holds me gently.

A few minutes later, my eyes open, slowly. My hand touches the muscled chest and rosy nipple I see. His sharp intake of breath excites me. Looking up at him, I see a Cheshire Cat smile creasing his beautiful face.

“Wow,” I say quietly, “that was … amazing.”

“How do you feel?” Rich asks, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” I see a momentary flash of worry across his face.

“No, no, not at all,” I smile up at him. “And I feel pretty darn fantastic.” I giggle.

“I think you feel pretty darn fantastic, too,” he smirks, causing a blush to stain my cheeks. “And I have to admit, you look mighty fetching wearing just a skirt! Especially when it’s pushed up around your waist.” He sends me a leer that is both hilarious and sexy.

Able to give as good as I get, I sit up, and pretend to smooth my skirt down over my thighs. “Oh, darn, it’s all wrinkled,” I wrinkle my nose, “guess it will just have to go.” I stand up, and slowly slide the skirt down my thighs, to pool at my feet. I watch as Rich’s eyes go nearly black with desire.

“You were saying,” I coo, as I position myself over his long legs and give him a light shove on his broad shoulders, just enough to lay him back on the bed.

His groan is music to my ears. 

“I … I … awww bloody hell,” he grabs my shoulders and pulls me down on top of his chest, in a tight embrace, kissing me senseless.

_To be continued …_


	4. Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot. Wet. Fun.

**_Part Four — Discoveries_ **

I wake in a strange hotel bedroom. Deja vu? Not quite. This time the curtains are open and the sun is shining in. I know where I am and what I’m doing there. I feel wonderfully used, almost wanton. I mean, really, how is one supposed to feel after a healthy dose of amazing sex?

I’m wrapped in a warm, spooning embrace. Solid thighs nudged up against mine, strong arms wrapped around me. I feel the deep rumble of a chuckle against my back. His deep baritone voice croons close to my ear, “I did say I made no promises about taking it slowly the next time.”

“I’m certainly glad you didn’t,” I grin over my shoulder, remembering the intense, yet almost playful bent to our lovemaking. I did wonder, though …

“Rich?” I ask, turning toward him, looking into his eyes.

“Yes, Dree?” he asks, cradling me in his arms, a contented smile on his face.

“Did I … was it … I mean, it’s been … “ I can feel myself blushing. I look away, not able to finish my thought.

“Oh, my dear,” he says, pulling me closer, nuzzling my hair, “you are remarkable.” He lifts my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. “You have no reason to doubt yourself. You are very sexy, love.” 

He proves that statement with a long, drawn-out kiss, tracing my lips with his tongue, nipping my lower lip, sinking into the kiss. His arms tighten just a bit, his hand moving down my back to nudge me closer to him, to feel his shaft beginning to rise again.

He lifts his head, seeming unwilling to end the kiss. He smirks, so sexily.

I sigh, feeling very contented. And then a thought pops into my head.

“Rich?”

“Mmmmm, yes?” he asks, nuzzling my hair, then looking down at me.

“Ummm, I have dinner reservations.”

“It’s early, love. No worries.”

“No. What I mean is, well, the reservation is just for one.”

“Oh.” he murmurs, glancing away, his arms loosening.

“No. Hey, that’s not what I meant,” I hurriedly explain, seeing the fleeting look of hurt on his face. “I … oh hell!”

Sitting up, I take his face in my hands and focus on his eyes. 

“You silly boy,” I say, and see a spark light up his eyes. “I want to have dinner with you! But I think they’d notice if there were two of us at a table for one.” I reach up and ruffle that soft, thick hair.

He catches my hand, holding it close against his head. “No one has ever done that,” he says, in a low quiet voice, his eyes downcast.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t …” 

“No, no, what I meant is, well, I liked it,” he smiles, almost shyly, and looks up at me. His brow is crinkled, a little boy lost look sneaks across his face.

Chuckling, I ruffle his hair again, using both hands this time. “You may be sorry you told me that,” I laugh.

He laughs and pulls me closer, kissing the top of my head.

“Right then, about those reservations. What name is the reservation under?” 

“Crispin. Adrianna Crispin. Why?”

At the sound of my name, he looks at me with a strange look on his face. Then smiles brilliantly.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Oh nothing,” he says, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. “I’ll tell you later. Now, let’s see what I can do about dinner.”

He moves off the bed, still gloriously naked and grabs his phone. He starts tapping in numbers and steps out into the sitting room. I hear bits of conversation, then he’s back, putting the phone down and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“All taken care of,” he smiles.

“Rich?”

“Yes, Dree?”

“Who did you just call? How could you do that so quickly?” All those little snippets of things from earlier come back to me. “Just what is going on here?”

“Oh! Well, see …” he mumbles. Sighing, he pulls me to him. “I was hoping I could delay this a little longer,” he says, smoothing my hair.

“Delay what?” I ask, nervously.

“Well, I’m …” he starts. His phone rings. “Sorry, love, but I really do have to take this.” 

He picks up the phone, presses talk, but doesn’t move from the bed. He rests one hand on my leg.

“Hello? Oh, OK, thanks for confirming the reservations, Crystal.” He listens, nodding, then replies. “Whatever Sir Peter wants, you know that. November 28. Wellington. I’ll be there.” Looking straight at me, he says to the person on the other end, “Can I bring a guest? Yes? Great! Make it a tentative two, then. Talk to you later!” He hangs up, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Have you ever been to New Zealand?” he asks, a grin on his lips, a sneaky light in his eyes. “You don’t have plans for the end of November, do you? Say you’ll come with me.”

“What? New Zealand? November?” My head is reeling, did I really hear him correctly? “Rich, what is going on here?”

Reaching for his trousers, he pulls his wallet from the back pocket, extracting a card and handing it to me. A SAG card? Perplexed, I look at the name. Armitage? I look up into his grinning face, still not getting it. 

“I’m an actor,” he says, still grinning.

“Oooooookay,” I respond.

“Seriously,” he says, laughing now, and pulling me into a big, naked hug. “And I absolutely adore that you don’t know of me.” He sobers for just a moment, “I know you are seeing me, not the actor or one of the characters I play. It’s rather nice.”

Thoughts swirling now, I ease back from the embrace, leaving the circle of his arms.

“That’s why those women were behaving so strangely at the Empire State Building,” I state, more than ask.

“I guess,” he replies with a little shrug, “I do enjoy meeting fans of my work. But, I wanted that time to be ours alone. We got out of there right quick because I was being very selfish.”

“And the doorman?” I ask.

“Pete and I got to talking when I arrived yesterday morning. His wife is a big fan,” he smiles, “and he’s been greeting me by name when I come and go.”

“And it doesn’t bother you that I’m not familiar with your work?”

Scooping me up off the bed in a strong embrace, he kisses me thoroughly. I can feel his smile against my lips. Raising his head, he smiles into my eyes and says, “It’s a part of why I’m so attracted to you. Among other things …” he trails off, skimming his hands down my sides, his eyes never leaving mine, watching as I melt at his touch.

“Dree?”

“Hmmmmm?”

“Fancy a shower?”

“Hmmmmm? Shower? Together? That sounds lovely,” I murmur.

“Now.”

“This minute?”  

He chuckles. “Oh, that’s funny.” 

Turning me around, he gives me a slight nudge in the direction of the bathroom. Glancing over my shoulder, I see him palm one of the condoms. He sees me catch him in the act, and smirks, “Can’t hurt to be prepared, now, can it, love?” Giving me a playful swat on the backside, he takes my hand and pulls me into the bathroom.

The roomy shower is enclosed by two clear glass walls with the other walls lined with travertine tiles. There’s a bench against the one wall. In the center of the shower is an overhead rainfall shower head. A multi-head jet system is positioned to spray at all angles. The high-end amenities sitting on the sink are subtly scented with sandalwood, giving the bath a waft of woods-like scent.

“Mmmmm, smells gorgeous in here,” I sigh, “like we’re in a forest.”

Rich grins, reaches in and turns the taps to get the hot water started. 

“Ready, love?” he asks, then picks me up and steps into the shower, setting me down on the bench. As he turns to close the door, I admire his ass, and not being able to help myself, reach out to fondle it. He jumps a bit at the first touch, then looks over his shoulder and quips, “See something you like?”

“Oh, yes, very much,” I respond. Placing my hands on his hips, I pull him back towards me. “Lovely, absolutely lovely.” I place fleeting kisses on both cheeks, and massage them softly at first, then with a bit more vigor. A little lick around his dimples causes Rich to moan, and he turns to face me. “See what you do to me?” he asks, huskily, his erection rock hard and in my face.

Moving my hands to his length, I massage it, up and down, slowly. My hand travels through that dark thatch of curls, to touch and caress his balls, and I hear his sharp intake of breath. My tongue peeks out and licks his tip, eliciting a rumbling groan. His hands cup my head, fingertips massaging my scalp, as his hips slowly push his length further into my mouth. Swirling my tongue along his shaft, I feel him quiver. He slowly withdraws, his hands caressing over my shoulders and down my arms, and kneels in front of me.

“Allow me,” his voice rumbles, nudging my knees apart, running his long fingers up the inside of my thighs and along my opening. He leans down and captures my nub between his teeth, causing me to gasp and groan. A slow lick, a soft kiss. He leans back, a grin playing about his lips. The steam is rising, and not just from the hot water.

“Here, let me show you some good, clean fun,” he chuckles, “but first, help me.” He unwraps the condom, and together we roll it along his length. I hear his groan and see his eyes close as my fingers linger at his base, stroking, circling.

He lifts his head, gazing into my eyes. His are smoky, focused, passionate. He takes my lips in a steamy kiss, tongues entwined. In a swift move, he pulls me to my feet, lifts my ass and settles me over him, wrapping my legs around his waist. He steps forward, my back is against the wall. He thrusts, one long, smooth move, burying his length in me to the hilt. A low moan escapes me. I wrap my arms around his neck as he withdraws and thrusts again, this time a little faster, a little harder.

“More, more,” I hear myself panting. I capture his bottom lip with my teeth, sucking on it. I draw his tongue into my mouth, sucking more. His hips piston against me, harder, faster. I feel my muscles contract around him, convulsing, gripping. He swivels his hips with his last thrust, pushing me hard against the wall. The friction on my nub drives me over the edge, my arms tighten around his neck and my scream is captured by his mouth. He groans against my mouth. Breaking the kiss, he throws his head back and growls as he climaxes. He leans his forehead against mine as we both try to catch our breath.

After a few moments of just leaning on each other, he gently lifts me and settles me on my feet, directly under the rainfall shower head. The water surrounds me and feels wonderfully warm as it rushes over my skin. He disposes of the condom as I stand under the water, luxuriating in the moment. Taking the soap in hand, creating a creamy foam, he slides his hands over my shoulders, making slow circles around them, down my arms. Those big hands work their way up my belly, to my breasts, circling the soap around, under, over them. His gaze follows his hands, sending shards of delight along my skin.

Wanting to feel his skin beneath my fingers, I take the soap from him. “My turn,” I smile up at him.

“Is it now?” he grins, and stands under the water, arms spread wide. “Mind you, keep it clean.”

Giggling, I run the soap over his shoulders, across his back and down over that fine ass, taking time to massage it just a bit. He looks over his shoulder and tries to give a stern stare, but breaks out laughing. I leer mischievously up at him, and run the soap around his hips and over his length, causing a sharp intake of breath. 

“Dree!” he gulps.

“Just making sure you’re squeaky clean,” I chuckle.

Pulling me up into another steamy kiss, he wraps his arms around me, the water falling on both of us.

“This is heavenly,” I murmur. “But …”

“But whot?” he asks, almost growling.

“If I’m going to be on time for dinner and the theatre, I need to go get ready,” I reply, stepping away from him, looking over my shoulder as he places a hand on my shoulder. His eyes tell me he’s reluctant to let me go. “I need to get ready, Rich. Alone.” I smile up at him, stand on tiptoe, place a sweet kiss on his mouth and evade the hands that try to pull me back in.

“I’ll knock on the connecting door when I’m ready. OK?”

He nods, his eyes twinkling. Wrapping a fluffy towel around me, I make my way back to my room. And just for good measure, lock the connecting door. A few minutes later, I chuckle as I hear him try to open it. 

Heading straight to the closet, I pull out the dress I bought just the day before, and lay it carefully on the bed. I’d thought I was crazy to splurge on the low-cut little black dress with a sparkling over skirt, matching long scarf, handbag and the 3” black strappy sandals. And the sexy little undies that went with it. But now, I was really glad I’d done so.

Taking care of teeth, hair and make-up, I smooth on lightly scented cream and dab perfume in all the right places. I slip into the newest pieces of my wardrobe. Feeling a bit giddy and almost naughty, I stand before the full-length mirror and do a little twirl. Perfect. OK, time to knock his socks off.

Standing in front of the connecting door, I listen closely and hear him pacing on the other side. Grinning, I quietly turn the lock, and almost immediately the door is swung open. His reaction is more than I’d hoped for. His jaw drops, his eyes light up, and his fisted hand moves over his heart.

“You’re trying to kill me,” he says, miming a thump to his chest.

“Thank you, Rich,” I smile sweetly. “And don’t you look handsome!”

He is dressed in a simple black suit with narrow pin stripes, paired with a beautiful deep blue shirt and matching tie. Glossy black dress shoes finish the outfit.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand, pulling the door shut behind me. “Let’s get out of here, otherwise we won’t make it to dinner or the show.”

 

_To be continued …_


	5. Surprises

**_Part Five — Surprises_ **

That Rich. He’s just full of surprises. He’s an actor. And apparently a well-connected one, at that. Sir Peter? Hmmmm. And that voice. Where have I heard his voice before meeting him today?

He’s also an expert in the art of muddling my mind. Or maybe he is just too damn sexy for my own good. Seems that every time I start to ask a question, he kisses me. Breathless. Boneless. Mindless. 

Then again, maybe it’s mutual. I most definitely respond to him. But I do my share of initiating, too. And he seems to be quite affected by it. 

A short seven floors. That’s all it is from our rooms to the lobby. The doors of the elevator are barely closing before I have my arms around his neck, reaching up to claim his mouth in a scorching kiss. And this after I promised myself I wouldn’t mess up my lipstick! His response is equally heated, wrapping me in his strong arms and crushing me to him, tongue thrusting through my lips, touching and twirling with mine. We were both more than breathless when the elevator signals the Lobby with a discordant ding. Quickly recovering, we are the picture of propriety when the doors open. Well, except for the heated light in both our eyes.

Exiting the elevator, I mention to Rich, “I need to stop by the concierge desk for a moment.”

“Everything OK, love?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply, “I just want to take care of something.” 

Approaching the desk, I see the same young woman who directed me to the diner that morning. “Ms. Crispin,” she greets me, “did you enjoy breakfast?” I glance at Rich, and laughingly respond, “Oh yes, Theresa, indeed!” He smirks, and I lightly jab him in the ribs with my elbow. Theresa is watching this by-play with keen interest, so I make my visit here quick. 

“Theresa, it seems I have a spare ticket for ‘Wicked’ this evening,” I explain, fishing the little envelope out of my evening bag and handing it to her. “Would you be able to use it? Or do you know someone who can? I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Theresa takes the ticket, responding with a huge smile, “I know just the person to give this to, Ms. Crispin. It will make their day. Thank you for the generosity.”

“Just keep it anonymous, OK? Tell them the happiness dwarf left it for them,” I smile. 

She grins back. “Will do.”

Rich follows the conversation, and reaching into his wallet, he says, “Theresa, do you think you could use another ticket? I, too, have an extra one.” 

“Really, Mr. Armitage?” she says, surprise sounding in her voice. “Yes, I do know someone else that would love to see the show! Thank you!” she says as he hands the ticket to her.

“Same thing about it remaining anonymous, right?”

“Certainly, sir! Thank you, thank you both!”

Waving goodnight to Theresa, Rich leads me toward the main doors. “That was a sweet thing to do,” I say.

“Just following your example, love. Couldn’t see the extra ticket go to waste.”

“It’s been such an amazing day,” I reply, “it just seemed right to pay it forward a bit.”

“Remarkable,” he smiles down at me as we reach the main door.

Pete steps up, smiling. “Misterrrrrr,” he begins, a questioning look on his face.

“It’s OK, Pete,” Rich smiles. “She knows my name.”

Pete’s smile broadens, if that’s possible. “Right, then, Mr. Armitage, sir,” he says. “The car is here. Right this way.” He opens the lobby door for us. As we pass through, he hurries to the gleaming limousine waiting at the curb and opens the door. “Ms. Crispin,” he smiles and gestures inside.

“A limousine?” I ask, shock threading through my voice. “But …”

Rich grins. “Dinner. Theatre. A ride through the Park. What do you think?” he asks.

“I think it’s terrific!” I respond, stretching up to kiss his cheek. “But when did you do all this?”

“When you locked me out,” he chuckles. “C’mon, Ms. Question Queen, get in. Or we’ll really be late for dinner.”

The ride to the restaurant is quite short. It seemed silly to ride at all. But it was a thrill to arrive in a limousine! Upon entering the restaurant, the maitre d’ shows us to a secluded table for two. Settling in, I look around and find myself with a case of the giggles.

“Whot you’re laughing at, love?” Rich asks.

“I can’t believe all this is happening,” I reply, glancing down at my hands, my giggles quieting, replaced by a happy smile.

“All?” he queries. He reaches across the table and lifts my chin. I see the smile lighting his eyes.

“Everything about today. About this whole trip,” I quietly respond. “You.” The single word slips out before I realize it. I see his smile brighten.

“And you,” he says softly, gazing into my eyes. A sigh escapes me. He reaches for my hand, caressing his thumb over my knuckles. He seems about to say something more, when he glances up. Reluctantly, he releases my hand. I see why just a moment later.

Our waiter approaches, introducing himself as Dante, handing us menus and asking for our drink preferences. Rich orders a bottle of wine, and Dante hurries off to attend to it.

“Everything looks fantastic,” I say, scanning the menu.

“Have you been here before?” he asks, smiling.

“No, this is another first for me,” I chuckle.

“This is only my second time here, myself,” he admits. “I was alone last time, so I tried the Shrimp Sardi. It was delicious, but very heavy on the garlic.” He chuckles. “Probably not something I’d want to have this evening,” he winks, then waggles those eyebrows at me.

“Oh bother,” I tease, “there goes my first choice.” Laughing lightly, I continue, “Actually, I was thinking about the Cannelloni au Gratin. It sounds delicious.”

“Good choice,” he agrees. “I think I may try the Chicken Breast in Madras Curry. I love good curry, especially with Jasmine rice.”

We no sooner close our menus, than Dante returns with the bottle of wine. He goes through the ritual opening and tasting with Rich, pours the wine, takes our orders and, gathering the menus, disappears.

Raising his glass, Rich says, “To a wonderful day and an equally wonderful evening.” Clinking my glass against his, I reply, smiling, “Indeed!”

Before we know it, our entrees arrive. The food is delicious, so we’re a bit quiet as we enjoy it. I notice that Rich starts to say something a couple of times, but seems to change his mind. Hoping to get him to relax, I ask, “So, Rich, which part of England do you hail from?”

“Leicester,” he responds, almost absently, still seeming to struggle with what he wants to say, “northern England.”

“Hmmm, that’s up near, ummm, Nottingham, isn’t it?” I reply.

He looks at me with a quirked eyebrow. “Yes, it is,” he says slowly, casting a suspicious glance, “and how would you know that?”

Chuckling, I answer, “I’m a bit of a geography geek. I usually get that same reaction out of people. They seem to think I know something about them they didn’t tell me.”

Rich chuckles and visibly relaxes. He lifts his wine glass to his lips, and starts to sip as I ask, “So, being from that area, I guess you’re quite familiar with the whole Robin Hood legend then?”

Rich chokes on the wine, sits up straight and stares at me outright.

“Are you ok?” I ask, reaching for his hand. As he continues to stare at me, ignoring my hand, a hard glint in his eyes, I ask, “What? What’s the matter?”

Recovering, he tilts his head to look at me, his eyes losing the hard edge, and a softer light taking over. “No, you’ve not got that kind of guile in you,” he says after a full minute of watching my face. Smiling now, he leans forward taking my offered hand, and says, “You might say I’m familiar with the legend.” His eyes widen a bit, looking deeper into mine, and seem to twinkle as he adds, “Almost intimately so.” 

What could he possibly mean by that? I ask, “OK, I’ll take the bait. How could you be ‘intimately’ familiar with a legend? Are you somehow related to one of the characters?”

He barks out a laugh. “You are delightful!” he grins. Looking about the table at our nearly completed meal, he changes gears quickly and asks, “Are you done with dinner? Want to get out of here?”

“Wait a moment,” I say in a low voice. “How about an answer to the question?”

“In private. The limousine. I promise,” he says, in a matching low voice.

“In that case, yes, I’m done. Let’s go.”

Almost before Rich signals for Dante, he arrives with the check. Rich pulls a few bills out of his wallet, pops them in the folder and hands it back to Dante. “Keep what’s over,” he winks at Dante. I hear Dante’s quickly indrawn breath, and a soft exclamation of “Thank you, sir!” as Rich hurries me toward the door.

“You didn’t even look at the check,” I say, “that was sweet of you. I think you made his night.”

“He deserves it. Besides, someone set a good example earlier. Pay it forward, right?” he smiles. Rich signals for the limo, which glides to the curb almost immediately.

Once seated in the limo, and before he can distract me with more kissing, I turn to him and ask point blank, “Now what’s all this about being intimately familiar with the Robin Hood legend?”

“Right. Yes, about that,” he hedges.

“Exactly. About that …” I echo.

He fiddles with the computer monitor on the limo console, and to my surprise, accesses Netflix. Typing in his username and password, he searches for … Robin Hood? What? 

“What are you doing?” I ask, slightly confused.

Without a word, he clicks on Series 1 Episode 1, fast forwards to the opening credits. His name flashes up on the screen. I look at him incredulously. He then fast forwards to about the 15-minute mark and lets it run. A black-leather garbed horseman gallops onto the screen, and starts to speak.

“That … that … that’s you,” I stutter.

“Yep,” he replies. “That, love, is how I’m ‘intimately’ familiar with the Robin Hood legend. Sir Guy of Gisborne at your service,” he chuckles, reaching over to turn off the video. “Now, about that kissing …” he quips, leaning toward me with outstretched arms, wearing the most ridiculous leer.

“Wait a minute,” I say, stopping his advances, but still laughing at the outrageous look on his face. “No, seriously, Rich,” I continue, batting away his encircling arms, “I’m still trying to make sense of all this.” He watches me as I try to comprehend what I just saw. 

“British TV?” 

He nods. 

“Anything else I should know about?”

“Maybe later,” he says cryptically, then adds, with what looks like dismay in his eyes, “Can we not make this about my CV?”

Remembering what he’d said earlier, about his joy with me not knowing about his career, I nod and change topics.

Curious, I ask, “Why is it the limo has a computer monitor and ‘net access?” 

“I was going to cue up some music, maybe a movie, to have on in the background as we drove around Central Park. Lady’s choice.”

“Oh,” I reply, still in thought. “So, ummm, what was the look you gave me when I told you my full name? You said, ‘I’ll tell you later.’ Well,” looking at my watch, “it’s later.”

“How often have I said what a brilliant bit of luck today has been?” he queries, his smile gleaming. Reaching for his wallet (again), he pulls out his driver’s license and hands it to me. 

“Richard Crispin Armitage?” I gasp out, shocked. “This is just too strange,” I say, recovering a bit.

“Serendipitous, maybe?” he suggests, with a hint of a smirk across his lips. “Really, Dree, what else could it be called?” he asks, huskily, pulling me into his arms for a kiss, bold and uninhibited. I wind my arms around his neck and respond without hesitation.

Belatedly, we realize that the limo as stopped. We’re at the theatre. The driver is waiting for a signal to open the door. Composing ourselves, including checking my hair and lipstick, Rich knocks on the window dividing the driver from the passengers. A moment later, our driver opens the door. Rich exits, then turns to help me alight.

We’re fashionably late and have to hurry to get to our seats. The lights go down just as we get seated. Rich takes note of a young woman seated next to him. He leans over and whispers, “That’s the ticket I gave Theresa.” I glance to see a wide-eyed expression of wonder on her face. “You did a good thing, darling,” I whisper back, kissing his cheek.

The show is marvelous. We behave, limiting our physical contact to just holding hands. As the curtain falls after the cast takes their last bows, Rich guides me to the door that leads backstage.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Shortcut, courtesy of a friend” he says, as he punches numbers into his phone. “Harry, bring it around the back. Yeah, great. We’ll be waiting inside.”

“What’s that all about?” I wonder out loud.

“Just trying to keep it private,” he replies, whisking me past dressing rooms and towards the stage door. He looks out, sees the limo, and we hurry to get inside. As Harry closes the door, Rich says, “Central Park, Harry. The scenic route.”

As we get settled, I notice that a bottle of champagne has been added to the bar, nestled in an icy bath. Rich glances at me, his eyebrow quirked, and I answer his unasked question with a nod and a smile.

Taking the proffered glass, I sip the pale liquid and giggle just a bit at the bubbles. “I love champagne,” I sigh, “it always feels like stars bursting in my mouth.”

Leaning down, Rich captures my lips in a soft kiss. As he breaks the kiss, his tongue traces their shape. “You taste like champagne,” he breathes, “and I love it, too.” His chuckle rumbles through his chest as he steals another quick kiss.

“Are you in the mood for that movie?” he asks, gazing intently into my eyes.

Lost in the look, I murmur, “Nooo. Not really.” 

He reaches for me, pulling me into a soft hug, and leans his cheek against mine. “Have you seen Central Park?” he asks.

“No, no I haven’t.”

“Me either. Want to take a look?” he asks, a mischievous smile courting his lips.

Wondering what he’s up to, I nod.

“Great!” he laughs, and presses a button next to the seat. The double moon roofs open overhead and he stands and pulls me to my feet. His head and shoulders push out of the roof, but the top of my head barely peeks out. “Here,” he says, “kick off your shoes and stand on the seat. Lean on my shoulders. I’ll balance you.”

Doing as instructed, my head slips through the roof. We’re face to face, the beautiful night air breezing past us as the limo makes its way around the darkened park. 

“This is lovely,” I smile, turning my head to look out at the park, lifting my face as the breeze catches my hair.

“Simply gorgeous,” he murmurs softly, turning my face back to his and softly kissing me. My arms wind around his neck, and I answer the kiss, taking it a little deeper, tracing his lips with my tongue. He tightens his hold on me as we both get lost in the energy of the kiss.

As our lips move a hair’s breadth apart, I quietly say, “I’ve seen enough of the park.”

“Yeah. Me too.” He closes the space for another kiss. “Yeah.”

Carefully lowering our heads and helping me down off the seat, Rich clicks the button to close the roofs. Pressing another button, he says, “Harry, take us home.”

The ride back is a blur of kisses, touches, embraces and mingled sighs. When we reach the hotel, we barely make it to our rooms before the heat of desire overtakes us. Just inside the door to my suite, Rich spins me around and holds me against the door, his hands on either side of my head. He covers my mouth with deep, hungry kisses. I respond, and my arms snake around his waist to pull him to me.

He lifts his head, searching my eyes, a small smile playing about his lips. He lowers his lips to mine again, softly brushing against them, running the tip of his tongue over them, and whispers, “Slowly?”

I nod, never breaking eye contact, and reach up to wrap my arms around his neck. At the same moment, he gently lifts me, carrying me to the big bed in his room, carefully setting me on my feet.

His gaze captures mine. His voice, husky with controlled passion, rolls over me, “Dance with me, Dree.” He folds me into his arms, resting his cheek against my hair, and we begin to sway sensuously to the beat of our hearts, our desires …

 

_To be concluded …_


	6. Farewells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The things we learn when we say farewell ...

**_Part Six - Farewells_ **

The memory of our sensuous dance floats through my nearly-awake mind. The slow, sexy shedding of each garment, layer by layer, as we moved together. Touching each other gently, without hurry, building the desire moment by moment. The sweet effect of the culmination of that desire still courses through me. I sigh contentedly and stretch.

 

I open my eyes to see the morning light suffused through the sheer curtains. I turn my head, and watching me awaken are those mesmerizing blue eyes of this exciting, amazing man. A man I’d met less than 24 hours ago. A man who had, in some magic way, known how to unlock the door that had been closed for so long, the door that led to the woman I’d always been. The eyes of that man watched me now, and they twinkled with humor.

“Good morning, love,” his smooth baritone voice drifts across the pillows, his fingertips tracing a path down my cheek, a playful smile skittering across his lips. “Did you sleep well?”

“What sleep?” I tease him, purring like a kitten lapping up cream.

He laughs, long and heartily. I feel the rumble of it as he pulls me tightly into his arms, pressing me along the long, lean and naked length of his body.

“You are delightful!” he murmurs, pressing my hips against his, pressing his lips against mine. His arousal is more than evident.

“Only delightful?” I ask, eyebrows raising quizzically. Feigning a pout, I sigh, “Darn. I was trying for unforgettable. Or fantastic. At the very least, delectable.”

That smirk that I’ve grown to love slides across his lips. “Perhaps we need to work on that a bit,” he chuckles, deftly rolling us over so he’s pressing my hips into the mattress.

He gently nips at my bottom lip, moving his hips against mine in the same rhythm. The tip of his erection tickles at my opening, sliding along with each movement. His slow thrusts have me feeling wanton again and the velvet hardness of his length gliding against my bud sends shivers of ecstasy through me. Each movement drives me further toward the edge.

Eyes closed, my nails digging into his back, I groan, aching for him to fill me, “Please, Rich. Now. Now!”

“Not yet,” he growls. “Look at me, Dree. Look at me now.”

My eyes open to find him staring deep into mine. His eyes are dark with desire. He changes the angle of the kiss and coaxes my lips open, matching the movement of his tongue to the slow frottage of his hips. The kiss is broken when he traces my lips with the tip of his tongue and trails open-mouth kisses down my throat to my shoulder. I kiss his cheek, then capture his earlobe between my teeth, licking and sucking. My hands move up his back and neck to fist in his hair. He glances up, his gaze capturing mine and a smoldering smile drifting across his mouth. Watching me, he slides his mouth down my shoulder, over the swell of my breast and onto my hardened peak. I arch against his mouth, groaning. 

His fingertips slide down my sides, sparking little fires along the way. His mouth starts a journey between my breasts, his tongue teasing the undersides. Kissing. Licking. Nibbling. Sending shards of desire throughout my body. 

Gently, I tug his hair, coaxing his mouth back to mine. His lips move over mine slowly at first, then becoming more demanding.

“Now, Dree.”

I gasp as he thrusts hard into me, withdrawing and then thrusting again. And again. I hear a moan and wonder if it came from him or from me. That feeling of euphoria is coming over me again, I almost feel like I’m floating, and only his body atop mine is keeping me tethered to earth. I feel, more than hear, a deep growl building in him. His movements are faster, more intense, and with a guttural cry, he tenses, crushing me closer to him. My own cry of release is lost against his shoulder.

After several moments of deep breaths, attempting to regain some use of limbs and brain, he gazes at me with those pools of blue. I see a distinctly ornery look flit across his face. 

“Alright, fair enough. I’ll give you unforgettable,” he says, smirking sexily, “with a bit of fantastic and delectable thrown in as well.”

“I might say the same about you,” I smile back at him.

And we both laugh.

——-

Unfortunately, the time to gather my belongings and begin the trek home is upon us. I can’t remember any other trip when I wasn’t ready to go home. This trip has been so different for me.

Rich calls across the open doorway, “What time is your flight?” I turn to see a sad little smile on his lips. I know how he feels.

I give my suitcases a quick glance, knowing that I’ve packed everything in it’s place. Pulling out my travel documents, I walk through the connecting door and go to sit and watch him finish packing.

Consulting my ticket, I tell him, “2:04pm. Yours?”

Tossing the last of his toiletries into his kit, he zips it shut, pops it into the suitcase and closes it. Retrieving his tickets, he sits next to me, our shoulders touching.

“Hmmm … 2:21pm. Where do they come up with these departure times?” He laughs. “Which airline?”

“Spirit. You?”

He chuckles.

“No. Really?” I ask, not quite as surprised as I should have been. After all, this has been a couple of days filled with coincidences. Maybe they really aren’t, after all.

“Should we try for another?” he asks, outright laughing now.

“Sure, why not?” I giggle.

Picking up his phone, he dials the airport information number, and taps in our flight numbers.

“B6 for me. B7 for you.”

“Looks like our time together is extended just a little longer.”

“I like the sound of that,” he smiles, then leans over to lightly brush a kiss across my cheek. 

Standing, he pulls me to my feet, and into a warm embrace. I lay my head against his chest, already dreading what the next few hours are going to bring.

Sensing my mood, he says, “C’mon, love. Let’s get going, grab a bite of lunch before our flights. Whot d’you think?”

“Sounds like a plan,” I nod and smile hesitantly.

We gather our bags, lock the connecting door for the last time, and meet in the hallway. We’re very quiet walking to the elevator and on the ride down to the lobby. 

As we pass the concierge desk, we get a wave from Theresa, motioning us over. “I just wanted to thank you both for your generosity last evening,” she says, her smile beaming. “I gave the tickets to two of our employees here, who have had a series of hardships. They hadn’t ever been to a theatre production before. They were so excited, and had such a wonderful time. They’ll never forget the experience.” 

Blushing, I reply, “I’m so happy that you were able to give them to two deserving people.” Rich smiles and adds, “Good job, Theresa.”

“Thank you again for giving them a night to remember,” she smiles, as we head on out the door.

“Hope we’ll see you again soon, Ms. Crispin, Mr. Armitage,” Pete says as he holds the door for us.

“Hopefully,” Rich responds, smiling at me and then at Pete.

Pete motions for a cab and sees our luggage stowed. He waves as the cab pulls away.

——-

Lunch is a quiet affair. We spend more time looking at each other and holding hands than eating. Before we know it, the time to head to the gates is upon us.

Rich is sitting with me at my gate. He has his arm around my shoulders, as he studies my face. We’re talking about inconsequential things … the weather, what we’ll be doing after the flight … when I see something flit across his features. He starts to say something, stops and looks away.

“What is it, Rich?” I ask, turning his face to me. He looks at me, and fleetingly I see that lost little boy look again. Hoping to get a response, I reach up and ruffle his hair. He smiles, chuckles, then grows serious again.

Taking hold of my hands and staring at them, he says, almost as if to himself, “How’d you become so important?”

“Oh, Rich,” I gasp, shocked that he is feeling this way. Too.

He raises his eyes to mine. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” He drops his gaze again. His fingers tighten on mine, and I can feel him gathering his resolve to get what’s on his mind said.

“Dree,” he looks into my eyes, “I’m not great at relationships. My work takes me all over the world for long stretches of time.”

“Like New Zealand?” I ask, and see him wince. I reach up to smooth his hair back from his forehead, “I understand, Rich. It’s the nature of your work. It’s what you love doing. You need to keep at it. It keeps you happy, fulfilled.”

“It also makes romance difficult, if not impossible,” he says. “Maybe that’s why this happened so fast. It’s been awhile since there’s been anyone in my life. I didn’t realize just how long until now.”

I stroke my hand down his cheek and along his jawline. “‘This’ happened because it was supposed to happen,” I counter. “As did you not being in a relationship at this moment. And me, well, needing to rediscover, with your help, the woman I used to be. And can be again.”

“Do you really believe that?” he asks.

“Unequivocally,” I reply, “There’s a reason for everything. We were brought together for some reason, even though we don’t know what it is, yet. We may never really know. But,” I pause, gently placing my hands on his cheeks, gazing into his eyes, “I know neither of us will ever be alone again. We’ve shared something here that is unique to us. And because of that, we have the memory of this time, of each other. Even if we never see one another again, we have this special moment in time to recall and remember.”

His gaze drops for a moment, then slides back to mine, his eyes full of questions. But there’s a light there, too. Hesitatingly, he asks, “Would you like us to see each other again?”

Smiling, I reach up and ruffle his hair again, and reply laughingly, “You silly boy! Of course I would!”

He pulls my hand from his hair, a smile bursting onto his lips. “That’s fantastic!” He pauses, a thought seems to race across his face. Bringing my hand to his lips, he says, “I wasn’t joking about New Zealand, Dree. I would love if you could go with me. Say you’ll think about it? Please?”

As my heart does a little flip-flop, I quietly reply, “Yes, Rich. I will think about it.”

“That’s great!” his smile growing wider. Pulling out his phone, he asks, “What’s your number?” As I tell him, he adds it to his phone. “Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in for you.”

Handing him my phone, he deftly adds his contact info. I glance at the name he’s putting it under … NYC RICH. Glancing mischievously at me, he whispers, “I was going to name it ‘Gourmet Sex’,” he chuckles close to my ear, “but I thought you’d rather your sons didn’t see that.”

I start to laugh, then stop short, almost choking.

“Say that again,” I say sharply.

“Whot?”

“Tell me what you were going to use as the contact name.”

“It was a joke, love. I was teasing,” he says. Then leaning in closely and in a low voice, he repeats, “‘Gourmet Sex’, because it was. Very tasty, quite unique and extremely satisfying.” He waggles his eyebrows at me and gives me one of his best smirks.

And that is when it hit me … that’s when I knew where I’d heard his voice before!

“OH MY GOD!” I blurt out, my hand covering my mouth quickly as if to pull the statement back in.

“Whot?” he repeats, a note of concern creeping into his voice.

“Your voice!”

“Yeeeesssss. It’s the same voice I’ve been using all weekend, love,” he chuckles.

“Yes, I know,” I reply, perhaps a bit more sharply than intended, “but …” I pause.

“But whot?”

“It finally hit me. I have heard your voice before!”

“WHOT?” he exclaims. He’s looking at me, amusement and questions warring.

I start laughing, and in a low voice, tease him, “It was the phrase ‘gourmet sex’ that clicked it in place. I’ve been trying to place your voice from the first moment you spoke. It sounded so familiar. “Gourmet Sex”. You narrated The Great Sperm Race, didn’t you?”

At his laughing nod, I continue, “I don’t watch much TV, but I do adore British documentaries. That was well done, Rich. Very nicely done!”

Laughing out loud, he accuses, “So you DO know my work!” As I giggle a “Yes, I guess I do,” he chuckles. “That is one of my favorite lines. Not many know this, but it was tough to keep a straight face, and the laughter out of my voice, while saying it.”

Smiling, I lean in to give him a light kiss on the cheek. He angles his head and turns it into a blazing blend of lips and tongue, not something I’ll soon forget.

“Definitely gourmet sex,” he whispers, his voice gravelly. We both laugh a bit breathlessly. He captures my lips again, this time more gently, savoring, treasuring. We know it will be the last time for a while.

The announcement for my flight filters through, and we break the kiss slowly. He pulls me into one of his all-encompassing hugs. My arms circle his waist and my head rests against his strong chest.. He drops a kiss onto the top of my head, then tilts my chin up so that our eyes lock.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says, quietly.

“Me, too,” I reply, sighing, ”very, very much.” Another sigh. “But it is time to go.”

He hands me my bag, his fingers lingering on my shoulder. I turn and walk toward the gate.

“See you soon,” he calls after me.

I turn to look back at him and see him watching me, a sad smile on his face. I wave, he waves. The second announcement blares across the seating area. I blow a kiss his way. He smiles. I turn and walk down the jetway, board and find my seat.

No sooner had I settled in, buckled my seat belt and opened my book, when my phone rings. Looking at the caller ID, I laugh. Touching the green button, I put the phone to my ear. Before I can say anything, that now familiar chocolate baritone croons, “Gourmet sex! There, that should give you something to think about.” His chuckle rumbles through the phone.

Laughing, and just a little flustered, I reply, “As if I’m going to forget that! So long, Rich. Safe journey. Thank you. For everything …”

“Safe journey to you, as well. And thank you. You’ll call me, Dree? Please? Soon?”

“I will call, silly boy. Soon.”

I can hear the smile in his voice as he rings off, saying “Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.”

A wistful smile stays on my lips as I reflect on all that’s happened.

The flight attendant starts the safety spiel, startling me out of my reverie. I turn off my phone, reluctantly, but keep it close to me.

The plane taxis and lifts off. I stare out the window, book forgotten, as we climb into the sky. And I wonder … just where did I put my passport? Hmmm … I wonder what New Zealand is like in November …


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When opportunity knocks ...

**_One Day Later … 9PM_ **

Iʼm stretched out on the bed in my suite. A glass of pinot noir is sitting on the nightstand. The remnants of the room service meal I ordered are stacked on the counter. Itʼs been a long day on the set. Getting back in character after being away for the weekend was more difﬁcult than ever before.

 

My weekend away was … well, it was fantastic. Very different from what Iʼd had in mind when I decided to spend it in NYC with friends. I have to admit, my friends being called away unexpectedly was most serendipitous — it led to the best weekend of my life. I am looking forward to the next time Dree and I can see one another. She promised that she’d call, soon …

 

My phone rings. Well, speak of the devil … I smile and chuckle as I look at the Caller ID. She might have seen what I used for my contact name in her phone. But she never looked at my phone as I entered her info. What an apropos appellation for her … “Gourmet Sex”. She is delightful! And not just as a lover …

 

“Hello, darling,” I answer, waiting and wanting to hear her voice again, “I was just thinking about you.”

 

“H-hello, Rich,” she replies, and her voice sounds — breathless. The way I remember it after we had kissed each other senseless. I did love the way she got that hitch in her voice. And the way she would reach up to muss my hair, and then wrap those lovely arms around me …

 

“How are you, Dree?” I ask, physically shaking my head trying to get those sensuous images out of my mind. Itʼs going to be awhile before we can see one another again. We should keep things low-key.

 

“Iʼm ﬁne. Starved for some serious kissing,” she says, and I hear the giggle beneath her words. “I-I think Iʼm going through withdrawal.” So, sheʼs having the same thoughts I am. Good, I smile. Very good. Wait! No, no, we need to keep it light until we can be together again.

 

“Did you have a good trip home, love?” I ask, as innocuously as possible, “Everything ok when you got there?”

 

“Ummm, yes. Yes, good trip home,” comes her reply, “but, well, there was a problem when I got there.” Her voice sounds strange. Am I hearing a hint of apprehension in it?

 

Sitting up quickly, I nearly bobble the phone. “Whatʼs wrong, Dree? What happened? Are your sons OK? Can I do something to help?” The questions tumble out before I realize how worried Iʼd become. “Please, love, say youʼre alright.”

 

“Iʼm ﬁne, Rich. Really, I am. But there is something you could do for me,” she says, another emotion creeping into her voice. I canʼt quite place it. Damn, if I could only look into her eyes, Iʼd know how to react, what to do.

 

At that moment, a knock sounds at the door. I ignore it.

 

“What can I do for you, Dree?” I reply. “Tell me. Whatever you need. Anything.”

 

Another knock at the door. More insistent this time. I ignore it again. What she needs is more important.

 

“Well …” she draws out the word, sounding hesitant to ask.

 

“Seriously, Dree,” I hurry to assure her.

 

This time the knock is more of a pounding. No, Iʼm not answering it.

 

I quickly add, “You can ask me for anything.”

 

“You could answer the damn door!” she chuckles.

 

“Whot?”

 

“The door. I can hear the pounding through the phone.”

 

“Youʼre in trouble and you want me to answer the door?” I ask, incredulously, certain that Iʼd heard her wrong.

 

“Who said I was in trouble?” she counters. “Rich, just answer the door. Then we can discuss my ʻtroubles.ʼ OK?”

 

“Alright, Iʼll answer the damn door,” I grind out. “Donʼt hang up, Iʼll be right back.”

 

Leaving my phone on the nightstand, I throw my legs over the side of the bed, getting ready to verbally beat the intruder at the door to a bloody pulp. This had better be worth it.

 

I glance through the peephole, seeing nothing but the top of a head. “Who is it?” I ask, irritation clearly evident in my voice.

 

“Room service, sir,” a strangely gravelly voice responds.

 

“Do you always pound on a guestʼs door at this hour,” I begin my diatribe, opening the door.

 

“Only to get them to answer the damn door.” Dree turns to face me, her beautiful smile lighting up her face.

 

“W-w-whot are you doing here?” I ask, not believing my eyes. “We were just … you were …” I stutter, pointing to the phone on the nightstand.

 

“Well, are you going to ask me in? Or are we going to have this conversation in the hall?” she laughs.

 

Catching her around the waist, I pull her tight against me and devour her mouth in a passionate kiss. Has it only been one day? It seems like so much longer.

 

Dree takes the kiss to another level, wrapping her arms around my neck. Turning, I kick the door closed and hold her closely.

 

When we ﬁnally come up for air and look into each otherʼs eyes, I can see that everything is, indeed, ﬁne.

 

“Want to tell me whot your ʻproblemʼ is, then, love?” I chuckle, not letting her loose.

 

“Well, ummm, you see,” Dree giggles, running her ﬁngers through the hair at my nape, “I got home and you werenʼt there to kiss me. And that was a big problem. So, I decided to be where you were so you could. Kiss me, that is.”

 

Bending down, I do just that. Gently, savoring her taste. “Mmmmm, good decision,” I murmur, our lips close, “very good decision. Let’s see if we can solve your problem, a bit more thoroughly.”

 

We take the kiss deeper, tongues coaxing playfully, arms winding around each other, becoming breathless.

 

I slowly pull back, watching her gorgeous eyes open and look into mine.

 

“How long can you stay, love?” I ask quietly.

 

“Unfortunately, only for a couple of days,” she replies, “only if thatʼs OK with you and your schedule. I can make plans to go home tomorrow if this isnʼt a good time.”

 

“A couple of days sounds perfect,” I tell her, pulling her back close to me, kissing the top of her head, happy to have her in my arms again. Even if it is only for a short time.

 

“Rich?”

 

“Yes, love?”

 

“Can I get my bag now?”

 

“Oh! Iʼll get it. Where it is?”

 

“Just outside the door. Thanks.”

 

Opening the door, I retrieve her bag and turn to close the door once again. When I glance up at Dree, I see sheʼs holding something, slowly waving it back and forth. And her smile is simply brilliant.

 

A passport. Her passport.

 

“Does this …” I begin to ask.

 

“It does, if you still want …” she begins to answer.

 

“Come here, you,” I open my arms and envelop her in a crushing embracing. “That’s brilliant! Thank you.”

 

“Donʼt thank me yet, silly boy,” Dree chuckles. “You havenʼt spent 30 hours on a plane with me. You might be sorry you asked me along.”

 

Pulling her to me, our mouths meld, thoughts scatter.

 

“T-t-then again, m-m-maybe not,” she exhales, breathlessly, as I gently break the kiss, our lips just a hairʼs breadth apart.

 

Tilting her chin up so I can look into her eyes, I whisper, “We can cross that bridge IF we come to it. Until then … ”

 

I capture her lips in a torrid kiss, feeling the heat of it spread through me, fueled by Dree’s moan and her arms twining around my neck.

 

Yes, there are so many plans to make. But they’ll keep. For tonight, only we two matter …


End file.
